Camoo

There are individual scenes in Terms of Endearment which would fall apart without all of the genuine emotion surrounding them - the movie builds these emotions carefully and deliberately, and creates such truthful relationships between its characters, that when we reach its inevitable ending, we can't help but be moved.

It took me a good long time to see this film. Maybe it was because I expected a sad slog of a melodrama, or these emotions coming across as undeserved. But I was totally floored by this movie, and lifted by the vivacity of these characters, and the film's careful balance between humor and drama that carries through the story.

Larry McMurtry was one of the best America writers, and his books and the films adapted from his work (and his Brokeback Mountain screenplay, adapted from the Proulx story) all have something in common, which is that they chronicle something very specific about American society - characters whom are often stuck in a bubble, or small towns without a reasonable means of escape; their sexuality or relationships inhibiting their freedom, or circumstance preventing them from living who they are. Transcendence occurs when these people can find find peace and happiness within themselves, and connect to others with love and understanding.

The actors who bring his (and James L. Brooks') words to life are sublime in their roles. I found the familial (especially the mother-daughter relationship) and spousal relationships so true, and filled with so much nuance, that there were many moments I just was nodding in agreement with the decisions made on the part of the writer, director and actors all together.

Paul Thomas Anderson's movies have always excelled in style, but personally I've always thought they were lacking in heart. I really love There Will Be Blood, and I enjoyed the underrated Inherent Vice's zany logic, and parts of his films are always powerful, and always visually awesome. He's a fantastic director. But - I've never been truly moved or stirred by one of his movies.

This one changed my opinion. I can't comment on any of the controversy or the discussion around the film outside of how the story is told and via its characters and setting. But Licorice Pizza transported me somewhere - namely 1970's LA - so precisely, and gave me two perfectly drawn characters, neither of whom I have ever seen before in any other movie. I adored them. This is his most lovable and least cynical of all of his films, and I was totally taken by it.

The film is a sorta loose, sorta dreamy, sorta sprawling, but not in a way that was off-center. The decumbent nature of it might be off-putting to some viewers - there is no ordinary 'plot', it's quite long, and some people might be asking where the licorice pizza is. It's not an on-the-nose movie. But the love story found within it, between these two perfectly cast characters is what anchors the movie into something that really resonated with me.

It's clearly an homage to 1970's Los Angeles, and Anderson's memory, and once you're on board with the hazy nostalgia machine, the movie flows wonderfully between different vignettes of the enterprising Gary Valentine's life and the love he's preserving for Alana. I felt a real love and respect between the characters, and between Anderson and his audience. The untraditional pairing between two first timers was a risk, but I enjoyed how unconventionally beautiful they are together, how much of an odd-couple they turn into; almost partners in crime in Gary's various crazy enterprises. Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman's casting are the best payoffs of this film.

I was the kid who dressed up as a Ghostbuster every year on Halloween, saved up pennies for the action figures, proton pack and the glow-in-the-dark trap, and begged my parents to bring me to the sequel even though I ended up having recurring nightmares of Janosz's glowing eyeballs. I cherished those movies, and Afterlife seems geared exactly toward my particular level of obsessive fandom.

Which is what makes this whole ordeal such a supreme disappointment. Instead of anything even half approaching a decent movie, we have the umpteenth subversion of a childhood memory by filmmakers who are trying, in vain, to recapture the spark of an original success, and falling on their faces. Whether it's the relentless perversion of the OG Star Wars trilogy, the Crystal Skull disaster, Blade Runner, Matrix, Scream, and the last Ghostbusters - the constant classic franchise revisitation schemes are mostly really annoying and a big fat waste of my money. Honestly, the only person at present time I would trust with a franchise addition is George Miller. And maybe James Cameron. And whoever was behind Paddington.

Afterlife made me cringe. At every level, I was cringing. I was on board with the intent - and the saving grace might be that it doesn't feel like a cold and calculated cash grab by a studio. It does seem a genuine tribute, and a nostalgic vehicle, helmed by the talented son of the original filmmaker. But then it falls into the trap of being a hokey nostalgic vehicle by the son of the original filmmaker, rather than attempting anything fresh and new with the material. Obviously Jason Reitman has proven himself as a great filmmaker in his own right, and made one of the greatest films since the turn of the century, which is Juno. But Ghostbusters: Afterlife is a different beast, and to me, he failed in his mission to direct a big scale supernatural action film, fill it with irreverent comedy and make it feel anywhere near as effortless or purposeful as the original. This movie is a long and difficult slog through seriousness, cheesiness, and weird meta self-referencing in a way neither of the other Ghostbusters ever would have dared to be.

I could get into the plot and details, but really I don't even want to. If you've seen the first two, you're basically seeing the same thing except it takes place in a rural town, it's much more diluted, and it's starring kids. The same music, the same creatures, the same ideas, the same tag lines - even the same sound effects - only hokier and less funny, and all thrown in through a Stranger Things filter. And the hyped up reunion between the original Ghostbusters should have been a joyride and one of the great moments of this movie, and yet I had to close my eyes when it got to those scenes, because I didn't want to ruin the original any more than I had by staying awake through this one.

This movie just embarrassed me. And made me sad. I don't want to leave a Ghostbusters movie sad again, so I actually give up on this, and will settle for revisiting the first two annually again. I liked that arrangement anyway.